


Survivor

by GayAquarius



Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Family Bonding, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Romance, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Canon, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayAquarius/pseuds/GayAquarius
Summary: (A coping fic)Louise is 16 years old, and she never thought it could happen to her. She can hardly say the word: rape.She never saw herself as the sort of person to be victimized. She never thought she would let such a thing happen to her. But it happened, and now she's dealing with the aftermath.Bob manages to coax it out of her, and she realizes just how much it's been affecting her despite her frantic attempts at repression.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have been raped. Multiple times. This is a coping fic for me (like I said in the summary), especially since I very much relate to/see myself in Louise as a character. I hope you enjoy this nonetheless, but I just wanted to say that's where I was coming from. 
> 
> This covers some very heavy elements, but the tone is as upbeat as it can be without trivializing the subject of rape. And while it does talk about the rape itself, it's in the past. It does go into some detail, but it's not super graphic. Nonetheless, I rated it as mature due to the subject matter. 
> 
> This is also a very loose sequel to my fic "Like Father, Like Daughter": http://archiveofourown.org/works/6717265/chapters/15361075
> 
> However, you do not need to read that fic to understand this one. I just very briefly reference the events of that story in this one.

I haven’t been myself since it happened.

I had seen so many rape statistics, serving as a warning, a threat. My dad would express concern when I hung out with the wrong boys. But I always figured it’d never happen to me. I was tougher than that. I’d kick a guy’s ass if he looked at me wrong. That’s what I told myself. Sometimes when I watched crime shows with dad and there was a rape in an episode, I’d proudly tell him that would _never_ happen to me.

I was wrong.

It’s so easy to say that you’d handle a situation a certain way if it ever happened to you. Then it happens, and suddenly your preconceived notions of how you’d handle it go out the window.

It wasn't even one of the "wrong boys" who did it. He was my friend. He was nice. He always had a crush on me. I didn’t feel the same. Sure, I found it weird, but I dealt with it. He was a good friend. I didn’t want it to get in the way of our friendship.

We were hanging out at his place. I lied and told my parents that his parents were home. They weren’t. We raided their liquor cabinet and had a few drinks. We sat on his bed together, side by side. He put his hand on my thigh. I wanted to say something, but the words got caught in my throat. He rubbed my leg, and I wanted to yell at him. Where did my voice go?

I don’t want to remember the other details. The next thing I know, my dress was off. Then my underwear and bra. My bunny ear hat naturally came off as well. Everything I had been wearing was haphazardly tossed aside, forming a messy pile with his clothes on the floor. I had taken several scalding showers afterwards. I scrubbed my skin raw, hoping it would erase his touch. It didn’t.

The worst part is, he doesn’t think he did anything wrong. At school, he talked to me like normal, except even more flirty. As if what I did was consensual, and we were something more than friends now. Really, he disgusted me now. I no longer considered him a friend, let alone more. Friends don’t hurt each other like this.

I wanted nothing to do with him, but I was too scared to say anything. I should have fought back. I should have said no louder than a mere whisper. I should have shoved that son of a bitch off of me. Why didn’t I?

I was relieved when it was Friday. A weekend meant a safe haven: alone in my room, far away from him. Once I made it home, my first stop was my room. I threw my backpack to the floor and collapsed onto my bed. My phone vibrated. I checked, and it was him. It was a hello with a creepy winky face tacked onto the end. I threw the phone away from me.

I should have cursed him out. I should have told him to fuck off and never speak to me again. I didn’t, and that disgusted me. I hated being the victim. It wasn’t like me. It went against everything I ever was.

Did I feel a certain stinging sensation in my eyes? Gross.

I laid face down on my bed for an amount of time I wasn’t sure of. Then, I heard a knock. I didn’t make a sound. I kept my face pressed against my pillow.

“Louise?” It was my dad. “Honey? I know you’re in there. Can I come in?”

“What is it, dad?” I made sure my muffled words would cut with my tone. I wanted my dad to feel like an intruder. I wanted to be left alone.

“I just want to talk to you.” His words were not fighting words. They sounded… sad. Heavy. My dad had always been a worrier. If it would prevent him from getting a premature heart attack, maybe I should let him talk to me. Then he could stop worrying and leave me alone like I wanted.

“Fine.” I stayed face down. He opened the door. I peeked up from the pillow. He sat on the edge of my bed. “What is it, dad?”

He took a deep breath. “Louise… you haven’t been yourself lately.”

Ever since I tried to kill myself when I was 14, my dad had been especially sensitive to any perceived change in my moods or behavior. It was 2 years ago, yet with the way he acts, one would think it happened last week. I never tried offing myself again. After this, there were times I was tempted to.

“I’ve been _fine,_ dad,” I snapped.

“Louise… you know you can be honest with me, right?” Once again, he inhales, slowly blowing out the air through his nose. “I don’t want you to feel alone.” My father’s voice wavers somewhat. As much as I hate to admit it, the bastard made me feel sorry for him. I resolved to tell him the truth, but only a very small part of it. The last thing I needed to do is make the old man worry more.

I sat up, pulling my bunny hat down so it covered my eyes. Ever since the rape, I had become even more attached to it, since it was ripped off my head without any regard to my feelings when it happened. He noticed the scars on my head from my childhood accident, but didn’t say a word. I still felt exposed, more so than when he tore the rest of my clothes off.

“Fine, dad. It’s been a rough week. You caught me. But I’ll be fine, all right? Don’t worry so much.”

“I can’t _not_ worry about you, Louise. I… love you. You do know that, right?”

Ew, mushy stuff. “Of course I know. You only say it all the time.” I let out a weak laugh. It was my usual teasing, but it lacked the edge it usually did. It was obvious that I was worn out, although my dad didn’t know from what.

“My dad never told me. I just want to make sure you know.”

I stuck my legs off the edge of the bed, and I swung them around a bit. They were hairy, just how I liked them. I had been told time and time again that boys wouldn’t find that attractive, and I never cared. It still didn’t stop him.

“I do know, dad.” I couldn’t say it back. It was too hard. “But… I’m fine, all right? You can go now.” I took a deep breath, but it didn’t stop my voice from shaking. This is the first time anyone had directly confronted me about my changed behavior. I wasn’t ready. I wanted to keep lying, but it was getting harder. I was beginning to crumble.

“I don’t believe you,” my dad said flatly. “Did… something happen? I know it’s hard for you to talk about these things, but I’m really worried.”

He really couldn’t stop, could he? “It’s not a big deal. I’ll be fine.”

Most girls would hate to tell something like this to their dads. Maybe because it’s an awkward, painful subject to broach, or maybe because their dads wouldn’t understand. Truth be told, my dad was one of the only people I would feel comfortable with telling. I trusted him as much as I _could_ trust a person, and I knew he wouldn’t blame me. I knew he’d understand as much as someone like him could… but I still felt sworn to secrecy.

I didn’t want to be the victim. It wasn’t me.

“ _What_ isn’t a big deal?” He raised an eyebrow. Crap. He caught onto my wording.

“It’s… nothing, dad. Just leave me alone, okay?”

That’s the moment where I could no longer keep it together.

The tears came. I put up the floodgates. I didn’t want to cry in front of my dad. I didn’t want to cry in front of _anyone._ I hated crying, and when I did, it was a strictly solitary activity. However, I could no longer hold them back. He _had_ to keep digging. He couldn’t just leave me alone like I had asked this entire time.

My sobs were loud, ugly. There had been times where tears would come to my eyes, but I hadn’t cried since it happened. I kept repressing. Now I couldn’t. I was unable to remember the last time I cried in front of my dad, and I felt super embarrassed. He didn’t care. Wordlessly, he put an arm around me, trying to steady me.

“What happened, Louise?” His voice was a bit too high pitched. He steadied his breathing. It must have been hard to see me cry, especially since it had been too long. I was a big girl now. I didn’t cry in front of my dad. I could do things by myself.

I was the exact type of person who shouldn’t be a victim.

“I… I…” I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, least of all out loud. But when you break down crying in front of your dad and end up worrying the crap out of him, maybe the truth is what he deserved. “I… I was raped, okay? That’s what fucking happened. Now please, go away. Leave me alone!”

My words practically came out as a screech. Despite my frantic attempt to get my dad to leave, he stayed put. He pulled me in for a hug, not seeming to want to let go. I let him.

“Who did it?” he asked. “I’ll… I’ll kill them! I’ll…” My dad was not a violent man. While he often yelled in frustration, he never laid a hand on another human being. However, his speech reflected a genuine rage that I wasn’t used to coming from him. “I’m… sorry, Louise. I’m so sorry.” He softened. While I couldn’t see his face, I heard him begin to weep.

Eventually, our hug came to an end. We sat side by side again. He sniffled, wiping his face with his arm. My eyes felt dry after sobbing out every tear I had in me. What was I even supposed to say now?

“This... wasn’t supposed to happen to me,” I whispered, almost inaudible. “I always told you it wouldn’t. And then it did. I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean, Louise?”

The words started to tumble out.

“It just wasn’t supposed to happen,” I said. “This. This shouldn’t have happened to me. I always told myself I’d kill any guy who looked at me wrong, and then I let a guy rape me.”

“Louise.” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t ‘let’ anything happen to you. What happened was absolutely horrible, and it can happen to literally anyone, no matter how tough they are. It’s not your fault.” He patted my back again. “I wish I could have protected you… but I know you’re almost an adult now, and I can’t protect you from everything.”

“It’s okay, dad. I know you would have stopped this if you could have. I just… I never saw myself as the victim sort, you know?”

He turned to me, putting his hands on my shoulder. I almost flinched, but I know he wasn’t going to hurt me. His grip was gentle. He looked in my eyes with a certain intensity that I wasn’t used to coming from him. I couldn’t look away.

“Then don’t be a victim. Be a survivor.” He blinked, once again taking a breath. “I wouldn’t blame you for seeing yourself as a victim after this. You experienced a horrible crime, something that… should have never, ever happened.” His words wavered, and he closed his eyes for a bit. “But if you don’t want to see yourself as a victim, then don’t. See yourself as a survivor. It’s your narrative. You can get through this. It won’t be easy, but I know you can. And… I’m here for you every step of the way. All of us are. Your mom, Tina, Gene… we all love you so much, Louise.”

His arms fell to his side again. The tears crept up in his eyes again. I offered him a sympathetic smile.

“Okay, dad. I’ll do my best. Thank you.” His eyes remained wet, but he finally was able to weakly smile.

“That’s all I can ask for, honey.”


End file.
